


Who's the Fairest of them All?

by luvscharlie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Community: interhouse_fest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvscharlie/pseuds/luvscharlie





	Who's the Fairest of them All?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katmarajade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/gifts).



**Title:** Who's the Fairest of them All?  
 **Author:** luvscharlie  
 **Characters:** Blaise Zabini/Lavender Brown  
 **Prompt number:** 187\. No WAY you're prettier than me!  
 **Word Count:** 2029  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warnings:** Alluded to sex, insults, big mouths, a few kicks here and there, and a POV shift at the end which is intentional because I'm nicer to Blaise than Lavender is.  
 **Summary:** Blaise Zabini thinks he's God's gift to women; then he meets Lavender Brown.  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. I just play with them.  
 **Author’s Notes:** Thanks to katmarajade for the irresistible prompt and to lunalovepotter for the beta work. Written for the 2015 interhouse_fest on Live Journal

The weather outside was brisk. Blaise pulled his perfectly tailored suit coat around him to block the breeze. He had forgone a cloak as it clashed with his suit and tended to rumple. He took pride in his clothes, and he could not stand rumpling of any sort. Always crisp pleats and lines, always cut to perfectly complement his well-toned body. He looked like he could have stepped out of _Witch Weekly_. They frequently sought him out for their cover, though thus far, he'd managed not to succumb to Pansy's demands. She took her job as _Witch Weekly_ 's newest editor very seriously. Pushy wench.

He blew in the door, turning some heads. He always did. Blaise took a stool at the Leaky Cauldron's bar next to a woman he recognised. She was from his year in school. The Gryffindor whose boobs had developed first (all the boys noticed) and who never seemed to shut up (they noticed that too-- it was scary how much one girl could talk). She'd always worn the bright red lipstick, back in school days, usually applied poorly, though he had to admit she seemed to have got better at that. She was named after a flower-- that much he could remember-- though most of the girls he'd gone to school with seemed to be-- so that wasn't much assistance in remembering what to call her.

She gave him a look of derision. "Lavender. It's Lavender."

"Did I say that aloud?"

"No, I just speak 'man'. None of you can ever remember my name. My boobs-- you all remember those, but my name is like a total black hole in your heads. And I'm in a mood. If you called me something stupid like Pansy, I would have to clock you, and I don't feel like doing that today."

"Touchy, touchy." Blaise was flustered; most women responded to him with fawning adoration and eyes that were a bit glazed. This rudeness was something to which he was unaccustomed.

"Yeah, well, I have my reasons."

"Care to share, love?"

"Since when am I your love?" Lavender snapped. "I'm way out of your league."

"Out of _my_ league???" Blaise stumbled over his words. Okay, that was it. This girl was rude, clueless and terribly obnoxious. She needed to be put in her place. "I'll have you know, you do not even approach my league of desirability." 

"Of course not. I don't dabble in League Gross and Slimy." Lavender took a peanut from the bowl on the counter, and indicated for the barkeep to bring her another glass of red wine.

Blaise asked for a glass of white Moscato. He really wanted a beer, but somehow that seemed to lower his class, and he could not do that and continue to maintain his status with this girl. He wasn't sure why her opinion mattered, but she had struck a chord with him. No one called him ugly, gross or slimy. He had a reputation to uphold. "I'll have you know I'm a hundred times more desirable than the likes of you. I could take any woman in this pub home with me tonight. One wink and they are putty in my hands." 

Lavender snorted. "Not _any_ woman. You could get down on your knees and beg me for a pity fuck. I'd never go home with you." She swirled the wine in her glass and took a long drink. "No matter how drunk I was, you'd never have a chance. Also, there's no way you're prettier than me. _That_ is laughable."

"There isn't a mar on my flawless skin, nor an ounce of fat on my body."

Lavender tossed her wine at Blaise, only to discover that the glass was pitifully empty. "Don't you dare call me fat!" 

"Wait. What? I just meant-- I mean you're not-- You're curvy. That's all. Nicely curved." He caught his _faux pas_ of _almost_ giving her a compliment, quickly. He recovered. "Just not as nice looking as me."

She motioned for the barkeep. "I'm going to need another glass of wine to throw at him. Someone drank this one." The barkeep refused, saying that he didn't want to clean up the mess.

That was a close one. He didn't fancy leaving the bar covered in red wine. Red wine stained, and these clothes were expensive.

Still, he could not let her get the best of him. He could not have mercy. This had become a contest of who was the most desirable and that was a contest Blaise was not prepared to lose... under any circumstances. He went for the low blow and pointed at the scar that ran up her neck and back down her shoulder to disappear under her low cut jumper. 

"Oh no you don't, mister. This is a hero scar. Hero scars don't count. They only make you sexier. Haven't you seen how all the girls go wild over Charlie Weasley? And his aren't even hero scars. They're dragon scars. Which is almost as good. Except they are from giant, nasty lizards which are ewww-- but you probably like that being all Slytherin and stuff. Still, nothing tops hero scars." She hrmphed. "Boy, you don't know anything. Especially about hero stuff and women." 

Blaise tried for an unruffled look and must have succeeded because it appeared to annoy Lavender all the more. "Slytherin. Snakes. No lizards. I'm pretty sure there's not a dragon house. You do make giant leaps in your comparisons." He took a long drag on his fag. "Still a scar is a scar and they are all ugly." One more drag, which seemed to draw Lavender's attention in a favourable way. "And there's nothing I don't know about women."

"Goes to show what a stupid Slytherin coward knows about being a hero." 

He chuckled, low and deep, and took great note that she hadn't argued further about his knowledge of the more gentle sex. "A stupid, unscarred, unblemished, still sexy as hell Slytherin."

"In your dreams, loser." 

"Or in yours, darling."

"You wish."

So much for what he knew. She wasn't budging at all. Stubborn bint. He hated to admit that he liked it. Women were usually such an easy conquest for him. This was... unusual. Rather intriguing. "May I buy you a drink-- assuming you can contain yourself and not throw it at me. I do not relish red wine stains on my shirt. It cost more Galleons, I'd wager, than you earn in a year." 

She brushed off the insult. "Yes, you may. And no promises. You tend to make me want to throw things." She stiffened when he smirked. "I'm only allowing this because I'm thirsty, you know." 

"Oh, of course." He never stopped smirking. 

As payment, she kicked him in the shin. "No one likes a bastard." 

"Something tells me you do." 

She didn't answer, and he thought he noticed a blush tint her cheeks. It could have been the effects of the wine, but he rather thought it was the effects of him. Blaise was tempted to consider that a victory and leave the bar. Leave her wanting. He did enjoy doing that. But something held him firm.

"You know you're going home with me. We could stop playing cat and mouse, and you could just admit defeat."

"You are delusional." She snorted incredulously. "You should really have that inflated head of your checked out. I think it's defective." 

He tried the rational approach, turned on that she was sticking to her guns. It was pointless of course, but he gave her points for trying to resist him. "It only makes sense, you know. We're the two prettiest people in this pub. We should leave together."

Lavender took a long drink. "Well, I'm the prettiest. No question about that. You're substandard--" she gave him a look over from head to foot-- "at best. Still, given that the average age of wizards in this room is somewhere around 80, that does give you somewhat of an edge." 

"If this pub was filled with the hottest, most eligible bachelors in London, I'd still have the edge, lovely girl." He scooted his stool closer to her and intertwined his leg with hers.

She gave him another kick. "Stop it. That tickles." 

Lavender drank the rest of her wine, and he ordered them both another. 

"Getting me drunk will get you no where."

***

It apparently got him a lot farther than she had anticipated.

It got him into her flat, clothes puddled around their feet as he gave her a once over. "You really are fantastic... scar aside."

She snorted as she looked at him. "And besides that six pack, which is unquestionably nice, you'll do." 

He stopped pawing her for a moment. "I'll do?" 

"Yes. You're no Charlie Weasley, but you are rather nicely shaped, and your willy is of acceptable length."

Blaise felt his acceptably long willy bob at the insult. "What the bloody hell?" he demanded.

"Oh please. I meant it in a good way. I'm pleasantly surprised. Parvati said that it was common knowledge that all the little willy'd boys were sorted into Slytherin. If you were going to share a dormitory room, no use in making someone have penis envy. It's why all the big cocks went to Gryffindor... and surprisingly to Hufflepuff. Justin Finch-Fletchley, you know-- all the girls have talked about that... a lot. Ravenclaw wasted all their brownie points on brains." 

His mouth fell open at such nonsense. "That is completely untrue. I will have you know that Goyle has the biggest cock I've ever seen!" _Holy shit_. This girl had him so rattled, he'd just used Greg Goyle's cock as some sort of ridiculous attempt at wooing.

Lavender gave Blaise a once over. "Really? It is a shame he's not here then. Not that you won't do... it's just, well, you know. Average."

"Average? Av-er-age?" 

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing. You could be Draco Malfoy. All those pointy edges. You just know his dick is pencil-like." 

Blaise would only be lying if he defended Draco's manhood. He'd seen Draco's cock, and it was a skinny little thing. Still, he felt compelled to do so... just for mankind everywhere. Not to mention because Slytherins were getting a bad name. 

"So... are we going to get on with it then?" Lavender asked. "The last bloke I had in my flat gave me toe-curling orgasms, and so far, all you've given me is a lot of lip and very little satisfaction."

" _I_ have given _you_ lip?" 

"Well, not a lot of the kissing variety, but you talk a lot, and--" Blaise shoved her against the nearest wall and crashed his lips down on hers.

"I'll show you _very little satisfaction_."

***

And show her, he did. 

Lavender looked over at Blaise, asleep on his stomach in her bed, the sheets gathered around his waist leaving his back bare for her perusal. One foot stuck sexily out from beneath her grey sheet.

Lavender had never had better sex in her life. She had made him perform at peak. Unlike other women, who worshipped his body and lamented his attributes, telling him what a catch he was, she had insulted him at every turn, making him work all the harder to impress her.

And oh, how he had impressed her. Not that she would ever admit it. But the orgasms had been better than she had ever had. It was as if he had been seeking the most valuable player award at a Quidditch match. She might even give him a trophy if they went another round.

Blaise popped an eye open and looked at her. "Best night of your life, no doubt," he said with a smarmy grin.

"Well, it was acceptable."

His smile faltered.

"Don't worry, dear." She gave him a consoling pat on the upper arm. "You'll do better next time." 

"God, I fucking hate you." Blaise punched the mattress.

"Most people do. I find that it's usually envy, rather than actual hate." She walked across the room naked and tossed him his clothes. "Time for you to be going now."


End file.
